


Three Hundred and Fifty-Three

by ValBirch



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Softness, mileven reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 01:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12545516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValBirch/pseuds/ValBirch
Summary: But now she was standing there in front of him and her name wasn’t a question. It wasn’t filled with uncertainty and tinged with regret. Not anymore.[Season 2]





	Three Hundred and Fifty-Three

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Here's the first of what I imagine will be a lot of Season Two fics. This came from an anon request on Tumblr to write the mileven reunion from Mike's point of view. Let me know wgtyou think. Your comments are always appreciated beyond words! 
> 
> \--Val

Fear. 

Mike could feel it working, changing his body, in all the tiny ways Mr. Clarke had described in class. It was odd, Mike knew, to be thinking about the chemical reactions happening under his skin right now as he planted his feet firmly on the ground and prepared to fight for his life. But he could feel them all, each little shift, every little twitch. 

The prickling of goosebumps on the back of his neck that made him feel eyes in every direction and begged him to turn around to check for monsters, just in case. 

The sweat on his palms, that made gripping the candlestick he had grabbed from the coffee table extremely difficult. _A candlestick._ Somewhere in the back of his mind, Mike was laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of how he would most certainly die. 

The increase in his heart rate, the muscle pounding so rapidly in his chest that it hurt. A sharp and intense ache that was so different from the dull throb of missing El that still, three hundred and fifty-three days later, lingered behind his lungs. 

Mike tried not to wonder if this was what Bob had felt before he— _no. stop._

Had he even had time to be scared? _No. STOP._

Maybe it was better not to have that time. The waiting—the horrific anticipation of the monsters that Will ( _it’s not Will in there_ ) was sending their way—was gnawing a hole through his stomach. 

And when that _thing_ came flying through the window—dead—he heard Dustin let out a small noise of relief, but Mike wasn’t so certain. No. Not even close. 

His index finger twitched against the candlestick. Once, and then again. If there was something out there killing those things with such ease—well, he sure as hell didn’t want it coming in there. 

And standing behind Hopper and Nancy and Steve, each armed, didn’t help either. Their weapons wouldn’t be enough for whatever was hunting them. Fear continued to spread its way through his body, ice in his veins. He could see it, too, in Steve’s body language, in Nancy’s heavy breathing. He could feel it everywhere in the room, consuming them. 

It felt like an eternity as the door creaked open.

And then Mike couldn’t breathe. His palms continued to sweat; his heart never relented in its hammering. But this wasn’t fear. Not anymore. 

_Eleven._

Mike stepped forward as the pressure melted out of the room, replaced with the stunning silence of disbelief, weapons lowering with dim clatters. Not that he could hear anything aside from the blood pounding in his ears. 

His body felt like lead, weighted and clumsy as he moved, her name falling from his lips, just like it had every single day for a year and a day. 

But now she was standing there in front of him and her name wasn’t a question. It wasn’t filled with uncertainty and tinged with regret. Not anymore. 

Holding her close— _she’s alive, she’s alive and she’s here_ —Mike could feel El’s body shaking, hear her crying against his shoulder and god he wanted to do the same. But there was an unbridled joy, an exhilarating euphoria warming him and he wanted to share that feeling—that sheer happiness, that weird moment of safety in the midst of unspeakable danger—with her. 

“I never gave up on you.” Mike took El by the shoulders, his voice thick with tears even through his smile. “I called you every night. Every night for—“

“Three hundred and fifty-three days."


End file.
